Haunted
by ClaudiaRain
Summary: The team pretends to be part of a ghost finding reality show to pull off a con that a house is haunted…except they begin to wonder over the course of the night if they really need to pretend. Nate/Parker
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Haunted

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Leverage or its characters and I make no profit from this. It's just for fun.

**Spoilers:** None.

**Pairing:** Nate/Parker

**Summary: **The team pretends to be a reality show ghost finding crew to pull off a con that a house is haunted…except they begin to wonder over the course of the night if they really need to pretend.

**Author's note:** I just finished a New Year's story that will be posted around, fittingly, New Year's. And it got me thinking, why not a Halloween story? And that led me…here!

Why am I posting this so early? Because my goal is to have it finished by Halloween.

XXXXXX

"Oh, _hell no_," Hardison complained, "I do _not _do ghosts, or anything else paranormal, or overall freaky, you get what I'm saying?"

"Hardison, there are no such things as ghosts," Parker said, though he didn't miss the questioning glance she threw at Nate, who shook his head no, and Hardison pounced.

"I saw that, I _saw_ that look!"

"You saw nothing," Parker scoffed.

"Uh huh, and for the record, I am against this! Completely."

"You didn't have a problem when Tara pretended to be a psychic, remember?" Eliot asked.

Hardison was unimpressed. "That was completely different. _She _was the one putting herself on the line attempting to contact the dead, not me. I don't want to go aggravating any spirits. I _like _being alive, man, I don't want to join the other realm, not yet."

"It's cute that you think ghosts exist," Parker remarked.

Hardison turned back to her, aghast. "You just asked Nate if they did!"

"No I didn't," she lied. "Besides, he could be wrong. Or lying." She turned to Nate with sudden suspicion at the thought.

"You _just _said you didn't ask – know what? Never mind. You haven't convinced me."

"I don't get why we should have to convince you of anything," Eliot grumbled. "It should be majority vote, 4 against 1. Know what, I'm even leery on letting you vote at all."

"Hardison," Sophie tried, "you gotta man up for this one."

"How is insulting me supposed to convince me?" He crossed his arms. "You only want to do it because you'd get to act."

Sophie sighed dreamily, before snapping back to attention. "That has nothing to do with it."

"Alright – can we?" Nate gave each of them a packet. "Hardison, I promise this job risks no physical harm to you, or –" he added as Parker opened her mouth – "any of us. Now, we need you. We all want to do it, so it's up to you. Are you in? Because if you're not, we're all out."

Hardison skimmed through the packet, though he knew what was in it. They'd been approached by Steve and Amy Jones, who had been tricked into selling their home by a predatory couple. Jonathan and Claire Stiles had pulled off a con of their own, convincing the Jones', with fake documents and fake officials, that their home was on contaminated land and dangerous to inhabit. After they'd sold their home, they'd become suspicious and dug into the issue – too late. No real record of the contamination existed.

It was Sophie who'd come up with their angle, since Claire Stiles was a huge believer in the paranormal; she'd even done graduate level research on supernatural phenomena. More than that, she was terrified of the idea of ghosts, stemming from a childhood where she'd thought her home had been haunted. If they could convince Claire that her new home was inhabited by spirits, she would put it back on the market, and the Jones' could buy it back, hopefully for a substantial discount. At least, that was their most hoped for scenario, though some altering of the plan along the way might be called for to ensure things played out in that exact way.

Hardison sighed and glanced up, startled to see they were all watching him. "Alright! I'm in," he said grudgingly. "But I'm not gonna be bait. No way, no how."

"There's no need for that because there _are no ghosts_," Eliot reminded him. Hardison didn't bother to respond to that.

"Glad to hear it," Nate told Hardison, "because I've already put the next phase in motion. In case you were unaware, we're the new cast and crew for the local chapter of _Ghost Finders_! We 'find' evidence of a ghost in Claire's home, and before you know it, it's on the market." He grabbed a box from the next chair and started tossing them hats and t-shirts.

"Uniforms? Really?" Hardison held up the black shirt with _Ghost Finders _written across the front in orange. "I've always considered myself more of an individual." But no one was listening to him.

"I look _good_ in black," Sophie murmured in approval.

"This is hilarious," Parker said enthusiastically as she put on the cap Nate tossed her. "People are so gullible."

"Are you sure, Nate?" Hardison questioned. "There are a lot of potential holes in our story –"

"When has that ever stopped us before?" Sophie asked, practically. "It doesn't matter if there are two holes or two hundred – if we can pull it off quickly enough, that is, before Claire or her husband start to question things, then it doesn't matter. All we need is the weekend. Halloween weekend."

"That's tempting fate right there," Hardison muttered.

"Don't be a wimp, Hardison," Parker told him, as she stood to put a hat on him as well. He tried to duck out of her reach, but she was too quick. "It sounds to me like you're afraid of ghosts. _Imaginary _ghosts, at that."

"I am not afraid of ghosts!" He argued. "I just have a…healthy respect for them."

"Yeah, that doesn't sound like afraid," she smirked.

"We'll see how you act when the spirits commune with you," he said. Now that he'd been challenged, he was dying to prove Parker wrong, or himself right. "What exactly does this entail?" He directed it at Nate, but Eliot answered.

"It entails finding ghosts," Eliot told him. "How informed are you about ectoplasm?"

"This is ridiculous," Hardison said, googling it. "If I get murdered by a ghost, I'm going to haunt you until the end of time."

They ignored him as Nate started telling them plans for Halloween weekend. "Parker, you and I are the main psychic investigators."

"I'm on it," she said, leaving the room with a flourish.

"Where is she –? Never mind," he shook his head. "Hardison and Eliot, you two will be the cameramen. Sophie –"

"I'm the medium, contacting the desperate and troubled spirits of the underworld whose last wish is to communicate with the living!" She said dramatically, throwing her arms out and her head back. She had this part so down that she was going to convince even the rest of her team that she was having contact with the supernatural.

"Uh, sure," Nate said.

"You two better film every second of this," Sophie told Hardison and Eliot. "I'm going to need it later."

"Sophie," Nate told her, "this is not about your acting career. It's about convincing the Stiles' that their home is haunted."

"Of course, Nate," Sophie said beatifically. "You can count on me." She started making a list of all the horror movie directors to whom she was going to send the footage.

"Cameraman for the insane," Hardison muttered, "how the hell did I get roped into this."

Parker came back dressed entirely in _Ghost Finders _apparel – baseball cap, shirt, jacket and…shoes?

"I definitely didn't give you those," Nate said, pointing to her sneakers emblazoned with the _Ghost Finders _logo.

"Oh yeah, I got these ahead of time. Need to be prepared."

"I'm glad you're so…enthusiastic about it," Sophie said.

"How do I look?" Parker asked.

"Like a psychic investigator," Nate said approvingly.

"About that," she said. "I have a question. What does a 'psychic investigator' do, exactly?"

"You try not to get killed," Hardison said vehemently.

"You draw out the spirits," Sophie clarified, "so that I can hear their messages."

"You investigate psychic activity!" Eliot explained, as if it were obvious.

All of that might have helped…had she any idea what she actually had to _do_.

She did what she always did when she felt like this; she turned to Nate. She didn't even have to ask her question, though. "You'll follow my lead," Nate reassured her. "Trust me."

That was the only answer she needed.

XXXXXX

"Is there some significance to doing this over Halloween weekend?" Hardison asked, balancing his hand-held camera.

"It's the best day to reach the other realm!" Sophie exclaimed.

Eliot looked over his shoulder. "We're not on a ship, Hardison. Anyone who watches this is going to get seasick with the way you keep shaking. Don't tell me you're scared!"

"I'm unused to the rigors of cinematography," Hardison defended himself. He was currently filming the outside of the Stiles' home. It certainly fit the bill for a haunted house – an 1800's Victorian home that, though well-maintained, still had an aura of creepiness about it. The shutters that creaked in the wind didn't help, nor did the turret.

Nor did it help that he was currently filming on the afternoon of October 30th. In less than ten hours, the date was going to switch over to the creepiest day of the year.

"Halloween was merely a coincidence," Nate said, rejecting Sophie's answer, as he looked over the house. Even he was having some trepidation about entering the mansion, and that was saying something, considering he had never believed in ghosts or anything paranormal. Sophie and Eliot were hanging back near the wrought-iron gate, heckling Hardison, but he wondered if they were equally as unwilling to be the first into the currently empty home.

"You guys, we're going to have so much fun tonight," Sophie said as she went to grab some of her bags from her car. "I've planned a séance, and several other fun activities to draw out the spirits!"

"A séance?" Hardison said, voice unnaturally high. "Doesn't that like…make them come to us?"

Sophie waved a ouija board at him. "Many think of them as simply children's toys, but when used correctly, they are one of the most effective means of communicating with the other side."

"Get that away from me!" He yelled.

Nate watched Hardison stumble away from Sophie with growing dismay. "You all know that there are no ghosts here, right?"

"Man, now I'm gonna have to tape over that," Eliot snapped. "Try to stay in character, Nate!"

"Sorry," he rolled his eyes.

"I expect this kind of thing from Parker," Eliot complained, as he rewound his tape, and indicated that Hardison should do the same, "not from you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Parker asked from an inch behind him, and he whipped around.

"Don't do that!"

"Keep in mind that you are talking to an official _Ghost Finders _psychic investigator," she said with an air of authority. "I have credentials to prove it."

"Credentials I made," Hardison called from across the yard.

"That's irrelevant," she said.

"Are you ready to film my intro, Hardison?" Sophie asked.

"What intro –"

She ignored him to begin. "In the summer of 1861, the home behind me was the scene of one of the most brutal and gruesome murders in the history of America."

Nate, Parker, and Eliot could only watch in morbid fascination.

"George Williams murdered his entire family in their sleep – with a machete! His wife and seven children – here one day, gone the next, subject to a madman's uncontrollable rage!"

"Wow," Parker whispered, glancing back at the house.

Sophie was far from done. "Over the course of the next 150 years, this building served as a Civil War era battlefield hospital, a sanatorium, and a prison for the most heinous criminals."

"She's really going all out," Eliot whispered to Hardison.

"Now, it's in the hands of private residents who suspect, and fear, that spirits inhabit their home. Literally thousands of tortured souls have crossed this threshold. Who will we encounter this evening? And will we make it out tomorrow alive?" She paused for a minute. "Did you get that?"

"Sophie that was…that was…" Hardison looked at the house with a mixture of horror and fear.

"I don't want to go in there _now_," Parker complained.

"She made it up," Nate said. "Tell them, Sophie."

"Yeah, I did," she grinned. "But you bought it right? Then my job here is done. Eliot, help me get the rest of my bags from the car."

"I'm not the bellboy," he complained, though he went to help her anyways. He picked up one of her bags and looked inside. "The only things in here are candles!"

"Exactly," Sophie said, shoving three more bags at him to carry.

"Do you guys mind if I sleep in one of the cars?" Hardison asked, glancing longingly at where Sophie was weighing Eliot down with various pieces of luggage. It had to be safer than sleeping in this creepy house, and had the added bonus that if anything strange happened, he could just drive away.

Parker ignored him, as did Nate, who started directing him on what shots to get. She watched as they all conveniently found other things to do, and realized they were stalling on going inside. Fine, then, she'd have to do it – even if the thought gave her more than a moment's pause.

She marched over to Nate and grabbed the key from his pocket. "We don't have all night!" She yelled at them as she went to unlock the front door. She flipped the light switch to her right and then jumped when the hall light flickered into brightness for a moment before dying. Either a blown light bulb or fuse. "Hardison," she called to him, as he filmed a dying rose bush along the side of the house with much more attention than it deserved, "go check the fuse box."

"Hell no!" He yelled, trying desperately to keep the camera steady so that they wouldn't make fun of him for this footage later.

Parker watched as Sophie berated Eliot on treating her luggage with care, and Nate lectured Hardison about how to capture the atmosphere of their surroundings.

"You'd rather send me in there than check it yourself?" She complained, trying to play on Hardison's chivalry. (She should have known he wouldn't be swayed.)

"You're tough," Hardison assured her. "Besides…I have to get these exterior shots," he said, as if it were direly important. Sophie and Eliot ignored her altogether.

Nate, at least, was willing to be a man about things. He patted Hardison on the shoulder and told him he was doing fine, then followed her into the house and flipped the switch a few times, as if unwilling to believe it didn't work when she tried it. "Basement it is. Parker, go check things out."

A sudden gust of wind blew through the front hallway and somewhere, deep in the house, a door slammed shut.

"Yeah right!" She said in disbelief. "You go!"

"I thought you didn't believe in ghosts?" He muttered, switching on his flashlight. Though it was still afternoon, it was overcast, and the inside of the home was quite dark.

"I don't, but just because I don't believe in something, that doesn't mean it doesn't exist."

"There's logic for you," he found the basement door. "Come on, you're a psychic investigator, remember? We have to investigate."

"Sure, we'll investigate all night...with no one filming us," she said.

He went back to the front door. "Hardison, you have more than enough footage of the outside, get in here and set up! We're going to check the fuses." He and Parker disappeared through the basement door.

"Think we'll ever see them again?" Hardison asked Sophie and Eliot as they stepped cautiously into the house.

"Hardison, your negative energy is not conducive to summoning spirits," Sophie said, shutting the front door behind them and locking it. She didn't want to spend the night here, but…they had to do what they had to do.

"If I see a poltergeist, I am out of here," Hardison swore, swiveling the camera to focus on pictures over the mantle. "You know they are the one type of ghost that can kill people? I saw it on a History channel documentary!"

"Shut up, Hardison," Eliot growled. "With your incessant chatter, we're going to miss any readings from our sound recorders." He was currently setting them up around the first floor. A bit difficult without electricity, but still doable with the flashlight he had.

"You're going to be glad for me later on, when you're being murdered by a ghost and I'm the one filming the proof," Hardison swore. When Eliot moved to rip the camera from his hands, Hardison ran upstairs.

(A decision that, within five minutes, he would regret.)

XXXXXX

Nate stopped a few steps down when the beam of his flashlight fell on a switch along the wall. He tried it, but light refused to illuminate the darkness. "Great, looks like this is on the same fuse."

"If it is a fuse," Parker said worriedly. She didn't want to descend the steps into the basement, but at least with Nate at her side, she felt a courage she wouldn't have otherwise.

"What else would it be?" Nate asked.

"Ghosts," she whispered. "Intent on leaving us in darkness for the entire night."

He took her hand and gripped it tightly as they made their way down the stairs. "Parker, that's not an option, trust me."

She hoped he wouldn't lie to her, and before today she'd never given much thought to anything of the paranormal kind. But she had to admit, Hardison's obvious belief mixed with Sophie's insane story had combined to push her closer to the edge than made her comfortable. "Whatever you say," she muttered, whipping her flashlight around to try and light up every dark corner simultaneously. She wasn't afraid of the dark, per se…merely of what it could hide.

"The fuse box is probably this way," Nate said, moving further into the darkness, toward the oil burner in the far corner.

She would have hesitated on following him, but seeing as she wasn't willing to let go of him, she went along. "This is creepy as hell, Nate. Why did you come up with this plan?"

"It's just a blown fuse," he said, carefully keeping his voice steady to put her at ease. His flashlight shone on the fuse box. "See?" It showed that, indeed, a fuse had been tripped.

"How, exactly, does flipping on one light trip a fuse?" She asked.

"I don't know, I'm not an electrician. Maybe the Stiles' left some things on, or maybe it's old and faulty wiring." He flipped it and the entire basement was flooded with a bright light.

Parker shielded her eyes and flicked off her flashlight. "Maybe the spirits did it," she suggested.

"Of course, how could I forget that obvious explanation?"

It took a moment to readjust to the light, but when she did, she wished she hadn't. "Nate, I think I preferred the darkness," she whispered, as they both looked around.

As he took in the sight before him, he couldn't help but think he whole-heartedly agreed with her.

**XXXXXX**

TBC – won't be a long story – just long enough for me to let Sophie do some crazy rituals, torture Hardison, and get Nate and Parker together, of course! (And I am working on both my other stories.)


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** See chapter 1.

**Author's note: **Dedicated to **Erin **who loves Halloween (and Hardison). And to all readers and reviewers, you brighten my day!

**XXXXXX**

The hallway light came on suddenly, and Sophie sighed with relief. Then, the sound of shrill screaming came from the upper floor. Sophie and Eliot exchanged alarmed glances before rushing to the stairs. Hardison came stumbling down, nearly falling in his haste, and then threw himself against the front door, nearly hugging it.

"Hardison," Sophie gasped. "What is it? Did something happen?"

"Oh Lord, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil," Hardison prayed, rambling on and on until Eliot clapped his hands right in front of his face.

"Pull yourself together! What happened?"

"You'll never believe it," Hardison said, and he sounded so very unlike himself that even Eliot found himself becoming worried.

Sophie took the camera from his hands and started rewinding his most recent footage.

"You're not going to see it on there," Hardison told her. "Not the worst part. I mean you see something, but it's not…" he trailed off, glancing up the stairs. Though the downstairs lights were now on, he hadn't bothered flipping any of the upstairs lights. As a result, the stairs ascended into an uneasy darkness.

Sophie started playing the footage, starting when Hardison had run upstairs in an attempt to avoid Eliot. For a few minutes, nothing abnormal happened. The footage was hard to make out, but Hardison had enabled the night vision, so they could see outlines of furniture. Suddenly, the entire video screen went white and started shaking, and then Hardison's scream from earlier came through, followed by footage from when he nearly fell down the stairs.

"What happened?" Sophie asked.

"It's not what I saw," Hardison said, still shaken. "It's…I was filming a few of the bedrooms and then it felt like someone was up there with me. I thought it might be one of you, but I didn't say anything. Then, I…felt someone grab my shoulder. I turned in a complete circle but no one else was up there with me. That's when I ran down the stairs," Hardison said, leaving out the part where he screamed in panic and horror.

Sophie regarded him with sympathy while Eliot looked on in frustration.

"Is it possible your imagination ran away with you?" Sophie asked. "It was dark, your mind plays tricks…"

"Sophie, I _felt _it," Hardison insisted. "Someone – or something – touched me up there. No way am I going back up there. In fact, I want out of this house."

He turned, about to leave, when Eliot spoke up.

"Hardison, knock it off! You're telling me you want to run away because you imagined some crazy, supernatural incident?"

"It was real!" Hardison insisted.

"Please, Hardison," Sophie said. "Don't leave. We'll stick together, I promise. And as soon as the sun comes up, we're out of here. _With _the proof we need to get the Jones' back their house." She checked to make sure his camera wasn't recording. "Whether it's real or not."

"This was _real_!" He insisted.

Eliot picked up his own camera and shook his head. "Whatever, Hardison. Once you're back under control, come join me at the front of the house. I have to set up some electromagnetic energy readers in the kitchen."

Hardison looked to Sophie for support. She smiled sympathetically, but even she didn't know how much of Hardison's story to believe. She had no doubt that _he _believed what had happened, but darkness and fear could do a number on people. Eliot was right; it was entirely possible he had imagined what he _thought_ happened. Still, she knew that whether something strange had happened or not, it didn't affect the amount of fear Hardison had felt – or the fact that he believed what he'd experienced was real.

"Why don't we go help Eliot together?" She suggested, hoping if he did something less stressful, he'd calm down and be willing to stay.

Hardison swallowed, thinking to himself for a few moments. It certainly helped that Nate and Parker had gotten the lights back on. As the adrenaline wore off, he began to question the incident; maybe he _had _exaggerated it in his mind.

Besides, he didn't want to leave them now, not when there was still work to do. And what if there _was _something strange going on in this house and he was the only one who knew about it? He could be leaving them all in danger. "Alright," he told her, reluctantly deciding not to flee – at least for now. "Let's get to work."

XXXXXX

"What…" Nate began, finding himself at a loss for words as he took in the scene before him. Along the far wall, a mere fifteen feet away, was a display of knives. Not just a few dozen, but hundreds, of all sizes and types, from paring knives up to items that couldn't be classified as knives at all, such as pick axes and saws. All of them were neatly arranged, hanging along the wall across from them so that almost no space was wasted.

"What the hell is this?" Parker asked. "Who _are _these people?"

Nate shrugged, "Well, you never know. I mean, some people collect knives and…torture devices, I'm sure."

"Hundreds of them?" Parker asked, in disbelief.

"It's possible."

"Like _who_?" She insisted. "The Manson family?"

Truthfully, Nate didn't know, but it was making him – and obviously Parker – uneasy. "I have no idea," he admitted.

"Nate, you don't think that they're…I mean that they've used any of these do you?" She shuddered, and he heard her unspoken meaning of wondering if they'd been used on _people_.

He really thought there was no way to tell, because what could you ever really know about another person?

She didn't take his non-answer very well. "What else do you think is down here?" She looked toward the other side of the basement where a few doors were closed. Part of the basement – where they were – was unfinished, but someone had started to finish it, which meant a few rooms had been constructed already. She wanted to explore them as much as she wanted to forget she'd ever been in this house to begin with.

"I don't care what's down here," he told her firmly.

"But don't you wonder?" She tilted her head toward the closed doors.

"Hey, go knock yourself out," he said, heading for the stairs.

"Nate!" She complained. "You'd let me go find bodies in freezers or who knows what? Typical!"

"I think you can handle yourself against a few bodies, Parker. It's not like they fight back," he said smartly, already halfway up the stairs.

"If I don't come back –"

"Then I'll know something happened to you."

"Nate," she started, but stopped when she saw he was teasing her. "Aren't you curious?"

"Fine," he sighed, rejoining her. He wasn't going to tell her he was doing this more out of concern for her than any curiosity about what might be behind closed doors. "But if I die, it's going to be _your _fault. I hope you can live with that. Or…not live with it, as the case may be."

She rolled her eyes and opened the first door, holding her breath as she did so. The darkness of the room meant they couldn't see anything until she found a light switch along the wall. She flipped it in anticipation to reveal – an empty room.

An examination of the room next door found equally as little, as it was filled only with boxes of junk and nothing as remotely interesting (or scary) as the knife collection in the main part of the basement. "I don't believe it," she said morosely.

"Parker," he turned to her. "Are you _upset _that we didn't find anything disturbing?"

"I thought we'd at least find a guillotine, since these people are collectors. Or a creepy shrine for Satan, pentagrams on the floor – something!" She kicked a stack of boxes in frustration and winced when they toppled over, spilling contents across the floor.

"Sorry you're disappointed. Let's get back to the others before they think we've met an untimely fate down here."

They both froze when they heard the sound of footsteps running across the floor above them. "What's up there?" She asked. "Is that the front hall where we came in?"

"Maybe," Nate tried to imagine the building plan in his head. "I think so." A loud crash followed the footsteps and he glanced at Parker. "What are they _doing _up there? They better not be breaking stuff, I don't want to be held liable."

"Just blame the ghosts," Parker reminded him. "Angry that we're invading their territory!"

Right as she said it, the door behind them slammed shut, enclosing them both in the small, mostly empty room.

"That's…strange," Nate said, at a loss, as he went to try the door. To his immense frustration, it wouldn't open. "Very funny, guys!" He yelled through it.

Parker crossed the room. "Get out of the way!" She told him, trying it herself.

"Oh right, it won't work for me, but it'll work for you," he said, exasperated.

"Most likely," she said, examining the doorknob. There was no lock, which meant something was blocking the door on the other side. He'd probably been right in guessing the others had something to do with this; it was most likely Hardison trying to pay them back for coming up with this idea in the first place.

"They can't leave us in here all night," Nate reasoned.

"Yes, they can!" She argued, throwing herself at the door, which did absolutely no good. She rubbed her shoulder and started muttering about all the ways she was going to kill Hardison, many having to do with the knives in the next room.

"I'll call Sophie," he sighed, pulling out his phone.

Parker started walking in circles around the room, kicking the walls in random places. "Hey, Nate, what are the odds there's a body sealed up in one of these walls?" She sounded far too excited at the prospect.

He ignored her, relieved when Sophie answered and he ordered her to come to the basement to free them from whatever trap Hardison had set. "Parker," he said, as he ended the call, "there are no bodies in the walls. Have you been watching _Criminal Minds _again? What did I tell you about that?"

"It happens," she argued. "And we can't know for sure unless we try to take them down. I think I saw a pickaxe in the other room –"

"Guys?" Sophie called from the other side of the door.

"In here!" Nate yelled, "There's a problem with the door because we –" he paused as the door swung open easily, Sophie on the other side "– couldn't get it open."

"It's working fine, Nate. Are you…alright?" Sophie asked, worried.

He barely stopped himself from snapping back at her, since the way she asked made it clear she had barely substituted the word "alright" for "sober."

"It wasn't working," Parker insisted, before Nate could say anything.

"There's nothing wrong with it, and Hardison didn't do anything since he was upstairs with me and Eliot freaking out over a supposed ghostly encounter on the second floor," Sophie explained, as Nate examined the door and then shrugged, having no idea what had happened.

"I guess it got stuck somehow," he decided.

"Maybe humidity sealed it shut for a moment? Or the wind blew it shut?" Sophie suggested.

"What wind?" Parker asked, pointing out that the basement had no windows.

Right as Sophie was about to reply, Hardison yelled down the stairs, demanding her help with setting up. "I'm supposed to be contacting the spirits, not setting up surveillance equipment!" She complained to him as she went upstairs.

Nate kept looking at the door, shutting and opening it several times. It worked perfectly.

"Forget it, Nate," Parker told him. "There's more important things to worry about down here." She went and grabbed an axe from the display on the wall. "Step back, this may be dangerous."

"You are not breaking down the walls!" He yelled, grabbing the weapon from her before she could start to damage the house.

"I thought you wanted to get to the truth," she argued, as he put the axe back in its proper place.

"What I want is to convince the owners of this home that it's haunted so they'll sell it back to the people they essentially stole it from!" He reminded her. "And you should want that, too."

"What do you think I'm trying to do?" She protested as she tried to grab for the axe again and Nate pushed her toward the stairs.

"Go," he ordered. "It's time we start 'investigating'."

She stared at him blankly and he tugged on her _Ghost Finders _hat in a not-so-subtle reminder of her role.

"Oh, right," she muttered, glancing longingly back toward the room they'd been stuck in as they started up the stairs. "Don't think I won't be back. There are secrets down here still to be discovered, Nate," she informed him.

Eliot chose that moment to appear at the top of the stairs, and only Nate reaching out a hand from right behind her kept her from falling backwards down them in surprise.

"Guys!" He yelled, "What have you been _doing_? You've been gone forever! Nate, you need to calm Hardison down, and then I'm ready to start filming." He held up his camera.

"Eliot," Parker began, gathering herself and pretending she hadn't almost just fallen backwards down the stairs, "how do you feel about reenactments of _actual _events?" As they re-entered the main hall, she started describing to him in detail the 'true supernatural experience' they'd just had in the basement (and how there were most likely dozens of bodies hidden throughout the home).

Sophie appeared and informed them she was going to set up for the séance in the dining room, and asked Nate what candles he thought would best summon those who 'dwelled in the other world.'

Hardison told him that he 'would not _believe_' what had happened to him upstairs and shoved a camera in his face to start playing the footage.

Nate thought this was probably going to be one of the longest nights of his life.

**XXXXXX**

TBC – I think the next part will be the séance. Reviews welcome.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** See chapter 1.

**Author's note: **Halloween is coming way too fast – thanks to all who read this, I hope you enjoy it!

**XXXXXX**

Parker looked around the dining room which Sophie had commandeered for her séance. Enough candles were lit throughout the room that she considered it a definite fire hazard, especially when you factored in the age of the home.

"Sophie," she said, "is this really necessary? I mean, isn't it pretty likely Hardison is going to start flailing around at some point during this exercise and knock over the candles, thus burning the house down?"

"Hey," Hardison sounded like he'd taken offense at that, for some reason. "I can maintain my professional demeanor."

"Is that what happened upstairs?" She shot back, "I saw the tape."

"Sophie," he complained, as she ignored him to continue lighting another dozen candles. "Say something!"

"If you do start freaking out," Sophie finally said, "stay away from the candles."

Hardison crossed his arms and glanced between the two of them as Parker smirked. "I should have clarified to say something that _backs me up_," he sulked.

"What would happen if he _did _burn the house down?" Parker asked thoughtfully.

That gave Sophie pause. "I guess Nate would have to pay for it."

"What am I paying for?" Nate asked as he came into the room, dramatically covering his eyes when he saw the hundred or so candles set up everywhere. "I didn't know you had to conduct séances on the surface of the sun."

"It's for _atmosphere_," Sophie stressed. "And you'd pay if the place burned down…right?"

"Why would it burn down, I mean aside from the obvious risks here."

"From Hardison's inability to control himself," Parker said gleefully.

Hardison was becoming more agitated. "I'm not that much of a liability! Know what, forget it, I'm going to get a snack."

"Snacks are not permitted –" Sophie called after him, but he'd already left, "…during the séance."

"Is all this _really _necessary?" Nate asked, as Sophie started lighting incense.

"Who's the expert here?" Sophie demanded.

Nate and Parker looked at each other, both at a loss. "Is it supposed to be you?" Parker guessed.

"I read all about it online _and _I watched three straight weeks of ghost hunting reality shows just to prepare for this," Sophie told them with an authority she really had no business possessing. "And besides, you'll see why this is necessary once I've turned off the overhead lights. We are going for 'spooky' right? If you want it to look real, then don't complain when I add the special effects to sell it to our audience."

Parker gave up because she didn't want to argue the subject. She took a seat at the table as Sophie checked the cameras Eliot and Hardison had already set up to film the action.

"I am ready for this," Hardison said as he came back to the room with a liter of soda and several bags of chips.

Eliot wasn't far behind him. He blinked when he stepped into the room. "What's with the candles?"

"We already covered that," Sophie said smartly, "sorry that you weren't here to witness it. Turn off the lights."

He obliged, flipping the switch as the room was plunged into darkness, save for the now eerie effect of all the candles around them. Parker had to admit, it had the effect of making her uneasy, which was probably what Sophie had been going for.

Much to her annoyance, Hardison sat next to her. He shoved a bag of chips in her direction. "Sun chips?"

"I do love those," she said, forgiving him instantly as she took the bag.

"Why do I feel like I'm at a junior high sleepover?" Eliot complained, as Hardison tossed him another bag of chips.

Nate turned to face him. "Why would _you _have attended a junior high sleepover?"

"Hey, I never said I was actually _invited _to any. Unless peering through windows and hoping for a pillow fight counts as attending," he winked at Parker who threw a sun chip at him.

"I feel bad for the girls you went to school with," Sophie told him disapprovingly.

"Hey, don't feel too bad since they all _loved _me. I once got caught outside Stacy Halderman's annual horror movie slumber fest by her _father _and not only did I talk my way out of it, he ended up inviting me inside. Stacy, her eight closest friends, and I spent the night watching _Halloween _movies while I gave them my opinion on their various hairstyles and wardrobe choices. True story."

"And how many thought you were straight?" Hardison asked, skepticism creeping into his voice.

"Obviously enough of them, considering I got four of their numbers that night," Eliot smirked.

"Man," Hardison complained, "I can't believe that's how you spent eighth grade, while I spent mine learning the ins and outs of the original Mac operating system. True story."

"Hardison," Parker said through her laughter, "you don't have to add 'true story' to _your _stories like Eliot does because we actually believe you when you say things like that."

Sophie was less than amused at how they'd become distracted from their main objective. "I think we're ready to begin," she said, drawing their attention to where she sat at the head of the table. Parker and Hardison were next to each other while Nate and Eliot sat together on the other side of the table. It meant the head of the table opposite Sophie was vacant, but they had to do it this way or else they wouldn't all fit in the camera shots.

Hardison took that opportunity to kick Parker's chair. "Do you think there are _really _ghosts in this house?" He hissed. Parker sighed, getting the idea that his proximity to her only meant increasing aggravation for the entire 'scene' Sophie had planned.

"Go sit on the other side of the table," she ordered.

Unfortunately, he seemed to think that if she ordered something, it was in his best interest to ignore it completely. "I will not!" He said, affronted.

"Eliot?" Parker asked, as he rolled his eyes and stood in order to switch seats with her.

She ignored Hardison's protests, getting up and sitting on the other side of the table to spite him. Eliot took her vacated seat.

"Hardison, you better not ruin this," Eliot said.

"As if there's anything I can ruin, it's all pretend!" Hardison said belligerently, turning to Sophie. "Right?"

"I can't make any guarantees about the spirit world, Hardison," she told him somberly.

Parker started laughing at the look on Hardison's face. "This is going to be fantastic."

"I don't know if any of you are familiar with the protocol of séances," Sophie said, "but generally someone serves as the conduit for spirits. In most cases that would be the medium, but since you have such a connection with the spirits in this house, Hardison, I was thinking perhaps you should serve as our conduit for tonight."

Hardison rocked back in his seat to stare at her in shock. "I'm going to pretend that was a joke. Because you cannot be serious."

Sophie stood and started walking in circles around the table where they were all seated. "I assure you this is not a joke, Hardison. In fact, I would suggest to you that the spirits might take particular _offense _at the fact that you would think this was a joke. The last time I was with people who thought a séance with a joke, three of them ended up near death. Is that the outcome you're hoping for tonight?"

Hardison merely gaped at her as she completed another circuit and Eliot did a final check of the cameras, giving them a thumbs up to indicate it was all being successfully recorded.

"Let's wait until we have solid evidence before drawing conclusions –" Nate tried to reason, as Sophie dropped the Ouija board on the table in front of them.

"Don't presume to know those who have passed on to the other side!" She said, her tone taking on an eerie quality that almost made Parker shiver. "I assure you that they are not treating this as –"

"Wait," Parker interrupted, "are we supposed to be using this? Because as Eliot helpfully reminded us, it's been a long time since junior high and –"

Sophie wheeled around to face her. "Do _you_ think this is a game?"

Parker merely stared at Sophie, unsure how much was an act for the cameras and how much was serious. She glanced quickly at Nate. "Is this a game?" She hissed, finding herself as on edge as Hardison looked (if the way he was holding tightly to the table and staring at the Ouija board with trepidation was any hint).

"Sophie, tone it down," Nate said.

"Nate," Sophie complained, her voice immediately taking on its normal tone, "you're ruining the mood that I'm working hard to establish!"

"Great," Eliot sighed, yet again. "Do you not remember that I have to edit all this? Come on, it's not that hard to stay in character for _one scene_!"

"Who said anything about staying in character?" Sophie asked creepily, slipping back into her medium role and tapping Hardison on the shoulder. He whipped around in the chair to face her, and probably would have left the room if she hadn't addressed him again. "What do you say to being the conduit, Hardison?"

"Oh no! No way! I ain't being no conduit for ghosts, are you out of your _mind, _woman? Move on down the line! Have Eliot do it."

Sophie sighed dramatically, sitting down again in her seat at the end of the table. "Normally, then, the job would fall to me but since we have such an open-minded group," (she ignored Eliot and Nate rolling their eyes), "let's begin by using this messaging system to contact those who have moved on."

It took Parker a minute to realize she was referencing the Ouija board and then reluctantly put her hand on it along with everyone else. This was either going to be terrifying or hilarious – possibly both.

"Now, everyone take a moment to clear your minds of every thought," Sophie paused for a minute. "And we begin. Are there any spirits with us in this room tonight?"

Parker kept herself from flinching when the planchette shot to the word yes. She glanced at each of the other four in turn, trying to determine which one of them had moved it, but she couldn't read anything from any of them.

"Let it be known that the board has indicated we are not alone tonight," Sophie said ominously.

"Are you going to repeat the answers all night?" Parker asked.

"I knew this house had a bad vibe, I _knew _it," Hardison mumbled to himself.

Sophie valiantly tried to mask her exasperation. "This works best if we're focusing on the matter at hand."

"On ghosts you mean? You want us to focus on ghosts," Eliot said with disbelief as he shot a sideways glance at the still mumbling Hardison.

Nate actually took issue with that. "Weren't you the one lecturing us on staying in character?"

Eliot frowned, "You have a point. I guess what I mean to say is…" he forced himself to sound stern, "there's definitely strange phenomena occurring in this house."

"That strange phenomena might not have anything to do with spirits," Parker suggested, watching as Hardison stopped talking to himself and abruptly pushed himself back from the table.

"I think I'm going to get some fresh air," he said, standing and heading for the door.

"Sit down!" Sophie ordered as he edged closer to the door.

Eliot paid him no attention, turning to directly face the camera across the table. "A strange phenomenon with _murderous intent_."

"If you walk out that door I'm offering you up to the other realm," Sophie warned right as Hardison was about to leave.

"Come on, what do you really need me for?" He argued. At her look he gave in and returned to his seat. "Let the evidence show that I am doing this under duress. _Extreme duress_."

"Silence!" Sophie demanded, closing her eyes. "I'll now attempt to channel those who might still linger here."

Hardison took that moment to start munching loudly on chips.

"Hardison!" Sophie complained, as he glanced at her guiltily.

"I'm hungry!" He protested, then flinched as she stormed over and ripped the bag away from him before resuming her seat.

Silence filled the room as they sat around the table waiting. For what, Parker didn't know. Further instructions from Sophie or perhaps a sign that spirits were in the home and trying to contact them? At this point she thought if they _did _get a sign, she'd have no idea if it had been planted by one of the others or not. Generally they had more detailed plans than this, but things had been odd from the moment they stepped into this building.

She wanted to blame Nate, entirely, for not keeping the rest of them under control, but thought maybe the element of surprise was part of the plan. It made things look more realistic for the cameras, right? She just wished if they _were _trying to scare Hardison that someone had filled her in on it because even she was starting to wonder…

"Do you wish any of us harm?" Sophie asked.

Parker held her breath while they waited and it wasn't until the planchette under her hand moved that she realized she was still holding onto it. It shot to 'yes.'

"Did that just say _yes_?" Hardison asked (quite unnecessarily since they'd all seen it happen).

Nate glared at Eliot with disapproval and Parker guessed that he thought Eliot was the one manipulating it.

Eliot only shrugged. "I know what you're thinking, Nate, and it's not me you have an issue with – it's the spirit world."

"Why do you wish us harm?" Sophie asked, ignoring everyone else.

Parker watched in fascination as 'too loud' was spelled out across the board. That certainly explained things, she thought.

As if on cue, Hardison said (with unnaturally high volume), "What's _that _supposed to mean?"

"I think we're bothering those who wish to…rest in peace," Sophie said. She turned to the camera next to her and launched into a dramatic monologue about how spirits tried to find peace in the afterlife. Parker tuned her out because watching Hardison's slow break-down was much more fascinating.

"Quit it!" Eliot hissed at him, trying not to be overheard during Sophie's speech.

"Quit what?" Hardison protested, "I think I'm the only one of us that understands the real dangers of this house! And those who dwell within it!"

"Hardison…" Nate began wearily, not looking forward to arguing the point but feeling, as their leader, that he had to at least make a show of effort.

A sudden draft came into the room, blowing out the candles on the side cupboard. Parker could only imagine what Hardison would –

"Did you see that?" He gasped.

"It's called wind, Hardison," Eliot said, getting up to light the candles again.

"It's called spirits coming to kill us," Hardison countered.

Sophie finished her speech and turned back to the rest of them. "Come, let's gather again," she said.

"Why are you talking strangely?" Parker asked her.

"Psychic investigator," Nate said quietly next to her. Oh, right. Play along.

"I mean…sure. We…shall…gather round ye," Parker tried.

"You're a psychic investigator," Eliot told her sharply. "That doesn't mean you're a time traveler from 1865."

Nate rapidly motioned for Sophie to go on.

Hardison reluctantly joined them at the table again. "Of the many enjoyable ways I could leave this Earth, I would have chosen almost anything other than this. I could be with a beautiful woman right now!"

"_Could _you?" Eliot asked skeptically.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sophie asked Hardison, slightly offended.

Parker, too, resented his poor choice of phrasing. "I hope the ghosts devour you," she told him succinctly.

"Hey, that's uncalled for!" He whined. "Nate!"

"Can we have professionalism here?" Sophie ordered, which Parker found quite laughable, considering their main objective was trying to convince others this home was haunted.

Sophie must have sensed that none of them would answer her in the way she wanted, because what followed was a quick stream of questions directed to the spirits supposedly inhabiting the home they were in. Each answer they received from the Ouija board was stranger than the last, implying that the home was actually haunted. Parker had no idea what to make of it except to think that either the home _was _haunted or else one of them was cleverly answering everything to make it seem that way.

Normally, she'd have no problem believing the latter, but since entering the Stiles' home…she was beginning to think the former scenario – of the home being haunted – wasn't that far-fetched either.

Hardison didn't help matters much, since at every answer that indicated the presence of spirits he either loudly protested, shoved the board away from him, or got up to pace the room.

Sophie finally gave in around 1 AM. "I think we've learned all we can from this séance," she sighed, getting up to start extinguishing the candles.

"That was horrible," Parker announced, as Eliot mumbled to himself about how much editing was going to have to be done of the tapes recording the session.

"It wasn't so bad," Nate told her, going to help Sophie.

Sophie turned to her…and was that pity? "If you thought that was bad, what are you going to think of what comes next?" She asked.

"What do you mean?" Parker asked, confused.

"Since we'll be here all night, I'm talking about when you spend the night in one of the upstairs bedrooms. Ready to record any supernatural activity." Sophie sounded as if she were barely stopping herself from laughing.

"Hey," Hardison broke in, "that's up to _you_ all, I have no stake in that whatsoever. Leave me out of it. I'll be down here, car keys in hand, ready to make a quick getaway if the need arises."

"Don't even try, Hardison," Eliot informed him, "you and I are sharing a room tonight and if you think you're getting out if it, you have another thing coming." He left the room with Hardison trailing behind spouting off numerous protests that Eliot ignored.

"You two have the master bedroom," Sophie said, far too happily. "Enjoy!"

Parker watched the other woman leave the dining room in slight shock before turning to Nate. "Tell me she's joking!"

"Not at all," Nate told her, extinguishing the last of the candles. "Grab that other camera to bring upstairs, will you?" He was already halfway out of the room.

"Wait!" She went to the bottom of the main staircase to call after him, "You can't be serious!"

"I'm very serious," he called back to her, and she watched as he disappeared from the landing, presumably to enter the master bedroom.

"What am I getting paid for this, again?" She asked loudly.

"You're getting paid in…experience," he said, reappearing at the top of the stairs.

"Why doesn't that feel like enough?" she muttered, grabbing the last camera and climbing the stairs.

**XXXXXX**

TBC – This won't be too much longer, thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** See chapter 1.

**XXXXXX**

Parker threw herself across the king-sized bed in the upstairs master bedroom. It was pretty comfortable and she reveled in the rare few moments of silence she'd had all night. Normally she'd be wide awake but she hadn't actually slept the night before either – Hardison's incessant prattling about this job for the past few weeks _might _have had something to do with the increasing anxiety she'd had about coming here.

The odd things they'd encountered over the course of the night did nothing to assuage her worries, either. Normally that should have kept her awake, but since she had a minute to herself, it couldn't hurt to rest for a moment…

She was almost drifting off to sleep when a loud crash from the room next door jolted her awake. What were they _doing _in there? She got up and kicked the wall. "Can't you keep it down?"

No sooner had she fallen back on the bed than Hardison appeared in the doorway. "That was completely Eliot's fault. You can't just throw a voice recorder at someone and expect them to catch it!"

In response, she whipped a pillow at his head, pleased when he tried to catch it and fell into the bureau instead.

"This is not a hotel, Parker," he admonished. "You're not on a weekend retreat at a bed and breakfast – or have you forgotten?"

"Believe me," she scowled at him, "I haven't forgotten. The day I ever go on _any _vacation, you will not be within a hundred miles of me."

"What do you mean by that?" He accused, slightly hurt, as he approached her and nearly knocked a lamp off the end table next to the bed. He caught it just in time.

"I mean I can't get any peace and quiet while you're around," she said, throwing her arm over her eyes to block out the light. It would do no good. She was wide awake again, even as the tiredness still weighed on her. It was a terrible feeling.

Hardison laid down next to her. "I can be quiet," he argued.

She pointed to the clock on the wall in silent challenge, and he nodded. A minute passed. Then two.

"How long exactly am I supposed to stay quiet?" He complained.

"Wow, that was two minutes and five seconds. It may be a record for you," she said.

Hardison sat up, clearly irritated. "Fine, you continue to lie here doing nothing while the rest of us set up for tonight."

"That sounds good," she smiled at him.

Nate stepped into the room. "Where did you go?" He asked Hardison. "And Parker, please refrain from kicking the walls. Even if Hardison _is _making a racket."

"I make no promises," she said sullenly. "How am I supposed to sleep when –"

"Um, you're _not_," Hardison informed her.

Nate and Parker both turned to look at him, saying simultaneously, "Get out."

"Man, you two are unwelcoming," he told them. When he didn't move to get off the bed, Parker gave him a hard shove and he nearly fell off before he caught himself.

"Assault!" He cried.

Nate ignored the fight that was perilously close to breaking out. "We finished the bedroom next door without you, but Eliot's still trying to fix the recorder you broke."

"That _I _broke? He threw it on the floor!" Hardison grumbled, forgetting about his aggravation with Parker. "I get blamed for everything yet I'm the only one who knows what to do with half this equipment. He better not have screwed anything else up."

As he left, Nate called after him, "Have Eliot come in here when he's done yelling at you so we can test the rest of the cameras."

Parker surreptitiously watched Nate as he finished setting up the camera in the corner of the room. She loved moments like these, when he was so focused on something. He always had a level of dedication to work that she admired, and which was sorely lacking in a lot of people that she'd known.

At times, she thought she paid Nate far too much attention, but it was something she really couldn't help. She tried never to focus on _why _that was the case.

Nate glanced over at her. "Smile," he said, as he looked at the camera's screen to ensure it showed what he wanted of the room, which must have included the bed.

"Why does it feel like this is the beginning of an X-rated movie?" Parker asked, then winced after the fact at what she'd just said. He'd probably be uncomfortable that she'd –

Except Nate was only amused. "I don't know, Parker. How many have you seen that started this way?"

"Uh, what, none!" She said quickly, looking anywhere but at him so that if she was blushing, as she feared, he wouldn't notice.

Thankfully, he started talking about the con. "Alright, this shows the bed and most of the room – it should capture any 'paranormal' experiences we have tonight. Which, of course, we will certainly be having. All we need is Eliot to help us test this out and then we'll be set for tonight."

She shouldn't bring it up, but he'd given her the perfect opening…she couldn't help herself. "Nate…" she began tentatively, and when her voice trailed off he came over to sit next to her on the bed.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

She sat up against the headboard, moving so that there were only a few inches between them. Close enough that she'd feel more comfortable, but not close enough that he'd find it strange. "I was wondering. Do you believe in…ghosts?"

Instead of answering her directly, he chose another tactic. "Why are you asking me this now?"

She shrugged, feeling suddenly exposed. This was why she hated _talking _to people. (Yet she often found herself talking to him, despite that.) "I never remotely believed in anything supernatural before. For my entire life. Then we took on this job and Hardison kept going on about how the spirits would get us. Of course, I ignored him as I often do, but maybe some of it sunk in and then…in this house – you can't deny weird things have been happening." She swallowed nervously, wondering if he was going to start laughing at her. She wouldn't be surprised if he did, and it would serve her right.

After a few moments of silence she got up the courage to look at him; he wasn't looking at her but rather stared across the room at something unknown. "Parker…I can't answer that, probably not in the way you want. Do I honestly believe in an afterlife? I don't know. I want to, because that would mean…" he trailed off, and she knew exactly what he wanted – but couldn't bring himself – to say.

"Sam," she said, with a braveness she didn't know she'd had.

He turned to her sharply, as if he wasn't used to hearing the name – and she knew he wasn't. "Yeah," he admitted, "Sam. But still, what goes on after we die? I don't know. And even if there is something more, that doesn't necessarily say anything about the undead haunting buildings."

"That doesn't help me," she sighed.

She watched in surprise as he reached over and took her left hand with both of his. "I can't give you the answers you want," he said, "but I can guarantee you that you are safe here."

In answer, she only turned her head to look at him questioningly.

"Parker, I'm sure even Hardison, for all his fears, would jump in front of a poltergeist for you." He obviously read the skepticism in her eyes, because he laughed. "Okay, maybe he'd be more likely to run screaming, but at least then you'd know to flee the room, as well."

She couldn't help but smile at that. "He runs at everything to do with this, though. How many times tonight has he freaked out about a supposed supernatural occurrence? A half dozen?"

"My only solution to that is to stay away from him for the rest of the night," Nate said, knowing she had a point.

Because he was still holding her hand (for comfort, she guessed) and because she still felt an unnatural pull toward him (for reasons she could not name), she didn't feel guilty about shifting closer to Nate and leaning against him. "This place still scares me," she said, unable to hide the wariness in her voice. Or the tiredness.

He let go of her hand so he could hug her. "Trust me. We're all getting out of this alive."

She did trust him, and she did think they would get out of this alive, but she couldn't help noticing that Nate hadn't really given her an answer on whether or not he thought this home was haunted. What she _did _notice was how relaxed she felt simply sitting there, that close to him.

Eliot came into the room, then. "Hardison said that…" He paused, glancing at the two of them on the bed. "Well, he didn't say you two were –"

"Check the camera," Nate ordered, cutting Eliot off. "I think I set it up right."

Eliot rolled his eyes but did as he was asked. "I think this is set. Are you two ready for your solitary encounters?"

"Our what?" Parker asked, confused, as she reluctantly pulled away from Nate.

"This is going to be brilliant," Sophie said happily, entering the room. As she explained to Parker their next plan for getting 'paranormal footage,' Parker couldn't help but whole-heartedly disagree with how 'brilliant' it was going to be.

**XXXXXXX**

"Who came up with this idea, again?" Parker asked, but in the empty room no one answered her. It was actually better that no one did – because the others were all downstairs, so if someone answered her, that would have meant a spirit was, in fact, in the room with her.

As Sophie had explained quite gleefully, the next phase of their plan was to have each paranormal investigator (that'd be her and Nate, unfortunately) spend time alone in a completely dark room, waiting for a supernatural encounter.

And since ghosts didn't haunt the home they were in (supposedly – she still had her doubts) that meant she had to sit in a room rigged to have fake supernatural experiences, and then react accordingly. Namely, with abject horror and fear. Those weren't too hard to manifest when she was by herself in a pitch black room.

She'd been sitting alone in the 'nursery' for ten minutes, with a camera trained on her that had night vision. She couldn't see a damn thing, though she knew the camera was picking up on her presence because Eliot had demonstrated to her how it worked before she'd entered the room, alone.

At first she'd gotten by with rambling about how she was waiting for a supernatural experience, desperately thinking of anything an 'investigator' would say.

Now she sat in complete silence, waiting with trepidation for what the others had planned. Eliot and Hardison had refused to tell her, saying it would be more 'authentic' if she were surprised. Well, wouldn't it surprise _them _if she got up and left before they could do anything to scare her?

She shut her eyes because it was easier to experience darkness that way than to have them wide open and still see nothing at all.

The sound of a door creaking behind her caused her to whip around, but she couldn't see anything in the darkness. She froze, trying to hear anything else (like the sound of someone entering the room) but couldn't pick up anything. She willed her heart to stop racing and turned to face forward, where she knew the camera was a few feet away.

"I just heard the sound of a door opening," she narrated, in the way Eliot had told her. "However, there's no one else in the room. I'm very –" She gasped and jumped when the sound of a door closing sounded behind her. It had to be the door that led to the next bedroom, but she wasn't getting up to go investigate.

She'd been in many creepy situations in her life and this had to be quite near the top. The fact that she was pretty much unable to do anything no matter what happened to her in the room was heightening her anxiety ten-fold. She'd asked why Sophie or another of them couldn't stay with her, and Hardison had informed her that being alone made the footage that much more 'real.'

She'd been subjected to fifteen minutes of strange noises (far-off clanging, whispering, creaking) and while she knew it was the others attempting to make the house appear haunted, she could only take so much. The pitch blackness was destroying her sense of reality. Part of her wondered, what if even _one _of the things she'd experienced in this room was not the work of the others, but of angry spirits?

When she swore she felt someone breathing on her neck, she decided that 'real' wasn't something she cared about anymore. She whirled around, lashing out, and met nothing but air. It had to be her overactive imagination, the darkness causing her to think that things were there that were not. Still, no matter how much she tried to rationalize it, every successive 'paranormal experience' further urged her to flee.

Her nerves were fraying to the point of shattering. She crossed the room to where she thought the door should be, and though it took her a few minutes to find, she was relieved when she clutched the doorknob. The marker gave her indication of where the light switch was, and she gratefully flipped it to bathe the room in warm light.

How did the presence of light make everything else fade into the background? Her face burned as she glanced around the room, empty of people (and ghosts), and she was grateful no one else was there to witness her embarrassment.

She took a deep breath, thinking through the ways she could explain this away when the others edited the film this week. She'd simply tell them that she'd...heard something abnormal and thought it might be one of them or…well she didn't really know. She'd come up with an explanation.

Still, the relief she felt at seeing the brightly lit room did nothing to make her want to turn the lights off again and return to her seat on the couch waiting for 'paranormal' occurrences (and why did the 'nursery' have a couch, anyways? She had no idea).

Maybe she could stop the recording, she thought. Then they'd never know how long she'd had the light on for. She could claim a problem with the tape and then –

The door she was standing next to opened, and she cringed as Nate stepped into the room. "Is everything alright?"

He was supposed to be in the basement, filming one of his own solo sequences. Why was he up here? She found she didn't care, simply grateful that he _was _here, and not two floors below.

"Everything's fine," she lied. "I…heard something strange so I turned on the lights to check. Nothing amiss, though."

He nodded, as if he completely believed her, and she was sure, with a sinking heart, that he was going to leave. "I was thinking it'd be more realistic if we did this together," he said, completely surprising her.

"If you insist," she told him lightly, refusing to acknowledge how uneasy (scared?) she'd been only a few minutes before.

To her immense gratefulness, he didn't challenge her. "Sophie suggested we could play off of each other, what do you think?"

Parker thought he was outright lying to her, but she'd never say it. "I think it's a good idea," she said, blinking as he turned off the lights and they were plunged back into darkness.

It truly surprised her that the anxiety she'd felt less than ten minutes before at being alone in the darkness was no longer present.

**XXXXXX**

TBC – I love readers and reviewers – this will definitely be done by Halloween and my other stories are next priority for me.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** See chapter 1.

**XXXXXX**

Strangely enough, once she and Nate were filming a sequence together, the noises around them lessened and then tapered off completely. She could only guess Hardison and Eliot had been throwing everything they could at her to try and scare her when she'd been alone.

"I think we've spent enough time in here," she said, turning on the light. "And I'm going to have to find a way to get back at them," she added quietly to herself.

"What? Who?" Nate asked, disconnecting the camera to give back to Hardison.

"When I was here by myself, I heard lots of strange things. And voices! Then the door opened and shut, and I swear I felt someone breathing behind me...Hardison really went all out."

"We set up speakers for the sound effects earlier," Nate told her. "As for the door, maybe Hardison rigged it."

She walked over to check but there was nothing in place to have it open and shut on its own.

"One of them must have done it, then," she shrugged. "Hardison should know better since he's scared enough as it is, it's going to be far too easy to get him back."

"Hardison wasn't up here when you were alone – I know for a fact because everyone was in the basement with me," Nate told her.

"If it wasn't one of you, then who was it? Wait, you all went down there and left me up here _alone_?"

"It was probably the wind," he said, to which she rolled her eyes, because how many times were they going to use that 'explanation' tonight? "And what do you mean we left you alone, we're in the house with you!"

"Yeah but two floors away," she protested. "I could have been…what do ghosts do to people?"

"Parker –"

"Haunted!" She cried, "I could have been haunted. Is that what you want?"

He couldn't help smiling. "I think that's exactly what we wanted."

She ignored him, thinking of all the ways ghosts could potentially kill her. "Strangled, what if I'd been strangled? Or pushed off the roof?"

"I don't think that's what they do. You were up on the roof?"

"No, but I _could _have been. See?" She challenged.

He really didn't, but he knew he wouldn't be winning this argument, especially considering he had no idea what it was about. Still… "Why would you worry about being pushed off a roof when you could much more easily be pushed out a window?"

She thought about that for all of five seconds. "Nate! What the hell!" She glared at him. "Don't be surprised if you find my lifeless body at some point later tonight, then won't you feel bad that you didn't believe me."

"Parker," he argued as he followed her into the hall, "I came back up here didn't I? Give me some credit."

"Very little," she said, turning to face him. "I give you very little." As he was about to respond she stopped him. "Do you hear that?"

They both waited a moment. "I don't hear anything."

"Exactly. Isn't it too quiet? Especially in a house where Hardison is present?"

"Guys?" Nate yelled over the railing, waiting for a response that didn't come. "Maybe they're in the basement, or outside."

"Maybe the ghosts got them," Parker whispered. "Or the Stiles'! What if they figured out what we were doing, and they came back and took their revenge? They _are_ creepy, they have a knife collection. Plus they have every season of _Six Feet Under _on DVD. And _Dexter_."

"I like those shows," Nate protested.

She looked at him suspiciously. "Are you trying to tell me something?"

He sighed. "When were you going through their things?"

"The better question is when am I _not_ going through their things?" Parker asked, as she rummaged through a rolltop desk in the landing. "I already told you there may be bodies hidden throughout this house."

"They haven't lived here long enough to hide any bodies."

"Do you know how long it takes to hide a body? An hour, tops. By my estimates, they could have hidden hundreds already."

"I really think you need to get some sleep," Nate told her as she pulled out a stack of bills from the desk.

"Electric, cable…nothing here for a storage locker? I'll have to look elsewhere for proof."

"No, we have to find the others," Nate said, grabbing the bills from her hand and throwing them back on the desk. He steered her toward the stairs. "They have to be around here somewhere." As if on cue, they heard the front door open and shut.

"They must have been outside getting something from the cars," Parker said as she followed Nate downstairs. "Sophie?" She called, "what are you guys doing?"

She and Nate reached the front hall, but none of their friends were there. Parker did a quick search of the rooms on the main floor, but they were all vacant.

"Where are you guys?" Nate asked, going back to the front door and opening it. The yard was empty, but their cars were still there. "You heard this door open and shut a few minutes ago, right? I wasn't imagining it?"

Parker nodded in agreement and they looked around, baffled. They would have heard or seen if the others had gone back up the stairs, which left two options – the others had gone out the back, or they were in the basement.

Nate must have read her mind. "Parker, check the basement, maybe they're stuck in that room we were trapped in earlier."

"That's funny, Nate, that you want me to go walk into a deathtrap. No thanks. You go look."

"So it's not okay for you to go down there alone, but it's okay for me to go down there alone?"

"Pretty much."

"I really don't see how that's fair," he said. As soon as he opened the basement door, a crash resonated up the stairs – it sounded as if someone had dropped an electronic device that was now in pieces. "Hardison, what did you break?" He yelled. No one answered. "I'm going to go check."

"You're going to leave me up here?" Parker nearly yelled, "So that whoever or whatever took them can get me, too? I don't think so!"

"You just said –" He stopped, exasperated. He was about to tell her how frustrating she was being, until he turned back to see her shifting from one foot to the other, arms crossed, shadows of worry and fear crossing her face. She truly was afraid, not only of this house but that something might have happened to the others.

"Nate?" She asked, becoming even more worried when he didn't say anything.

"Yeah," he shook himself out of his thoughts. "Come on, we'll search together."

A quick search of the basement turned up nothing, not even anything that sounded like it could have made the crash they heard. They returned to the first floor even more confused. "Their cars are still here, which means they didn't leave," Parker said as they went to the kitchen. She glanced out the door leading to the backyard, but it was silent and empty. She went to the fridge and found all of Hardison's snacks inside. "I think that's proof he's still around somewhere."

Nate was completely at a loss. He took out his phone to call the others, but none of them answered. He left messages for each of them demanding they contact him immediately. "We didn't hear their phones ringing, which means they still have them, wherever they are."

"Do you think they got trapped in a secret passage or something?" Parker asked, glancing at the nearest wall as if maybe she could see through it to determine if someone were trapped.

"If they did, they should be able to call us," Nate frowned, checking the signal on his phone. "After all, my phone still worked even when we were trapped in that room in the basement, and I have the same kind as Hardison."

"People don't just vanish into thin air!" Parker said, checking her own phone, but she had no missed calls or texts.

Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a shadow pass by the curtains in the sitting room adjacent to the kitchen. She was sure it was one of their friends – but no one came through the doorway. She stood to go check anyways, but the sitting room was empty. "This is getting too…" she couldn't think of the appropriate word. Strange? Creepy? _Real_? "Did you see that?"

"I didn't see anything," Nate said, "but to be fair, I can't see into the next room from this angle."

Parker hovered in the doorway. "I guess it was a trick of the light," she said, though she didn't sound too convinced. "Do you think we should…call the police?"

"And tell them what? There's nothing we could say that they would believe. Let's just...I don't know."

"That's not a solution!"

"Why do I have to come up with the solution?" He argued.

"It's what you do!" She reminded him. "What plan do we implement when three of us go missing without a trace?"

He ignored the question. "There's an explanation for everything," Nate insisted.

"What's the explanation for this situation?" She demanded.

"I said there _is_ one, not that I knew what it was," he admitted.

She sat at the kitchen table and stared at her cell phone, willing it to ring. Nate sat across from her and they allowed a few minutes to pass in tense silence. "Thought of a plan yet?" She asked.

He really had nothing to tell her, certainly nothing that would make her (or himself) feel better. He fervently hoped the others had become distracted somewhere in the house – maybe in a secret passage like Parker had suggested – and would show up at any moment. "I suggest we wait."

"Wait?" She dropped her phone onto the table, refusing to wince. "Do you know what other people call that? _Doing nothing_! What if they're in danger? What if they need our help and…people don't just disappear," she repeated, her voice strained.

Nate suddenly sat up straighter, a thought striking him. "You're right, they don't. What if this is part of their plan? What if they want us to get scared to capture it on tape and use later?"

"They wouldn't do that. Would they?" Parker seriously considered it. "It'd be mean."

"Ingenious," Nate corrected, looking around the room. "There are cameras everywhere in this house, they could have hidden one that's filming us right now. I bet this is a prank they're playing on us, or maybe they want to get footage of us being scared to include in the tape we make for the Stiles'."

As if to punctuate Nate's words, the sound of heavy footsteps came from the second floor above them. Parker jumped up from the table. "That isn't funny! They are going to seriously regret this!" She said angrily, though she still couldn't completely hide the undertone of fear in her voice.

She stormed angrily to the main staircase, Nate only a few feet behind her.

"We know what you're doing!" He yelled up the stairs. Of course, no one answered them.

"Let them play their little games," Parker fumed. "But I'm not going to play along." She went back to the kitchen and sat defiantly at the table, crossing her arms. The thought that the others were somewhere upstairs laughing at her and Nate's reactions made her furious. To her surprise Nate followed her. "You're not going up there to confront them?" She asked.

"No way," he said, getting a bottle of water from the fridge. He was upset, but not as much as Parker. "Let them come down on their own. I'm not giving them the satisfaction. The plan was to get back at the Stiles', not play on each other's fears and insecurities. Hardison should know better, considering he's been the one going on about ghosts and being against this plan to begin with."

She whole-heartedly agreed with him. In fact, she was just about to say so, when the door leading from the kitchen into the backyard burst open and Sophie stormed in. Parker stood up from her chair in surprise and Nate froze.

"I am never_, never _listening to you again, Hardison," Sophie hissed. The other two followed her into the house, Hardison looking chagrined and Eliot looking as exasperated as Sophie.

"You were outside?" Parker accused. "We looked out there and didn't see anything!"

Sophie missed the anger in Parker's question. "Not only were we outside – we were in the _woods_." She shuddered, as if the word were offensive.

"Did you three give up, then, once you realized we were on to you?" Nate demanded.

Hardison and Eliot turned to him, not having noticed him in the room before he spoke. "What's gotten into you?" Eliot asked.

"_Someone_," Sophie nodded none too subtly at Hardison, "thought he saw a ghost in the woods out back. And who did he drag along with him to investigate? That's right, _me!_"

"Hey, I didn't _think _I saw anything. I _did _see something," Hardison argued, setting his camera down and going to the fridge to get something to eat. "Is it my fault your shrill voice and shrew-like demeanor drove the spirit away from us, thus preventing my getting the proof on videotape?"

Sophie gasped, shocked at the accusations. "How dare you imply that a ghost would run from me. I am a _medium_!"

"A _fake _medium," Eliot reminded her unnecessarily. "And I still don't know why I followed you out into the woods. I must have been suffering from temporary insanity."

Sophie held up the edge of her gown in proof. "Look at this, Nate! I'm filthy now, thanks to Hardison. The outdoors has too much dirt and…bugs. And strange nocturnal creatures that stalk you through the woods. I am never going out there again, there's nothing redeeming about it."

"I agree. Damn all that fresh air," Eliot nodded, quickly averting his gaze when Sophie glared at him.

Parker was so angry that she was nearly vibrating with it. "What, you're going to pretend you had nothing to do with –" She was upset enough that she could barely get a coherent thought out.

Nate eyed her warily, though he couldn't blame her for being upset. "What you did wasn't funny," he told them.

"What?" Hardison asked. "Are we at the point now where you blame me for things that happen even when I'm not here?"

"We know about how you were trying to scare us. We're not stupid," Parker told him.

"I'm lost," Sophie insisted, and to Parker's surprise, the other woman seemed genuinely confused.

"Trying to make us think this place was _really _haunted," Nate clarified. "The noises? Shadows? Footsteps? Come on."

"Hey, if you think I'm that good then I appreciate the compliment," Hardison protested. "But all the sound effects I set up are mostly whispering and creaking noises, and they can only be triggered by me, sitting at my laptop. Which is right there on the counter." He pointed to where it sat a few feet away from Nate.

"I'll actually vouch for Hardison on this one," Eliot said. "Considering I was traipsing through the woods after him on a futile 'ghost hunt' which is a result of, I admit, a lapse in judgement. I should know better than to ever follow Hardison _anywhere_."

"We're telling the truth," Sophie insisted. When Nate and Parker still looked unconvinced, she sighed. "Come on! If we _were _trying to scare you don't you think we'd be taking credit for it right now? What's the point of a good practical joke if you don't even own up to it!"

"Maybe you're afraid of what I'd do to you in return," Parker suggested.

"Please, I am not afraid of you!" Hardison laughed, but when Parker turned to him he took a step back. "Okay, maybe a little. Look, I don't know about the rest of you but I still have plenty of work to do tonight, so I'm going to leave you to figure this out on your own – but I think you should come to the conclusion that I did hours ago, which is that this place has restless spirits and I am counting the minutes until I can vacate the premises." With that he left to – well, who knew what he was going to do. Sophie and Eliot beat a hasty retreat after him.

"Do you believe them?" Nate asked her.

"It pains me to admit, but I do," Parker sighed.

"Yeah, me too." He didn't sound any happier about it than she did.

**XXXXXX**

TBC – one more chapter, 99% likely to be posted on Halloween. I meant this story to be short. What happened? I guess I enjoyed writing it more than I thought, because I never knew where to end it. Thanks to all readers and reviewers.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** See chapter 1.

**Author's Note:** Last chapter!

**XXXXXX**

Now that Parker knew the others were definitely in the house, she didn't have to wonder every time she heard something out of place. Like when Eliot and Hardison's arguing from the next room was followed by a loud thud, which probably meant one of them had pushed the other into some furniture.

"Don't worry about that, guys," Hardison said as he appeared in the kitchen doorway. "Slight…technical difficulties. Nothing major."

"If you call Hardison being afraid to go upstairs alone a 'technical difficulty,'" Eliot called from the other room.

"Hey Parker, you're not doing anything right?" Hardison ignored the exasperation on her face. "Can you take a look at that voice recorder Eliot threw to the ground when we were upstairs? Thanks." He went to resume fighting with Eliot. Their voices carried quite well even though Hardison had pulled the door shut behind him.

She hopped up on the kitchen counter. "I'm sick of this house, Nate. I was sick of it ten minutes after we got here."

"I know," he said, moving to stand next to her. "The night's almost over. We're almost done with what we came here to do."

She smiled slightly at him, aware he was trying to make her feel better. She expected it, by now.

She fidgeted with the voice recorder, trying to figure out what Hardison had done to it. Really, if he took two seconds to stop running around, complaining about ghosts, he wouldn't have accidents like this. And he'd be a lot less on edge. As a matter of fact, so would she.

Before tonight, she would have laughed at everything he said, sure that the 'evidence' he cited about spirits and hauntings were completely attributable to his imagination. Now she honestly didn't know what to believe.

Nate leaned against the counter next to her. "How's it look?"

"I think Hardison really broke it when he dropped it," she told him. "And why isn't he the one fixing this? He's our 'tech expert.'"

"I don't think he'd appreciate your sarcastic air quotes," Nate said.

"Then he shouldn't be freaking out about nothing!" She and Nate both paused as they heard more arguing from the next room. "If they spent half the time working that they do fighting with each other, we would have been done five hours ago."

"And not spend the whole night here? Where's the fun in that?" Nate asked.

She opened up the back of the recorder. "It looks fine to me, I don't know why it won't work."

He took it from her and examined it. "Forget it. Even if this is broken, I don't know the difference between how it looks broken and how it looks working." He tossed it back on the counter.

The sounds of fighting from the other room faded away and Nate became aware of just how alone they were in the kitchen. Maybe it wasn't the best time for this, but would there ever be a best time? "Parker," he began, "there's something I've been meaning to talk to you about."

"Your tone is way too serious," she said, starting to get worried. Had she done something wrong? Usually that's how these conversations went. She couldn't remember doing anything, but then again, that was also usually the case.

"The thing is…for awhile now I've been thinking – more like wondering…that is…"

She watched as he struggled to get the words out and leaned closer. "What?"

"What do you think of us?" He asked.

"I don't understand the question," she admitted. He was acting very unlike himself and it only worried her more.

"What do you think of our relationship?" He tried again.

She shrugged, truly at a loss. "We're friends?" She asked, and when he didn't answer, a thought struck her, that maybe he didn't think so. "We _are _friends, right?" She asked, worried.

He sighed, staring at his hands where he was holding onto the counter. "I know I need to be clearer with you."

"Nate…" she began, and when he looked up at her in response, she saw it. Normally she never would have, but something about his eyes, the way he watched her – she'd seen it before, and for awhile now. A part of her had registered it was different – different from the way Eliot and Hardison looked at her. Even different from how Nate _used_ to look at her.

Yes, she'd known it was different. But it wasn't until that moment that she understood why.

"You're trying to tell me you like me!" She said, happy she'd figured it out after all this time, but happier still by the implications of it.

"How did you –" He was surprised, and she didn't know if it was because she'd been able to understand his still unspoken question, or because she seemed happy about it.

"I don't know how I knew," she said honestly. "It just came to me."

"And…?"

Oh right, she hadn't let him know what she thought of it, had she? In response, she slid closer to him on the counter, and he took the hint, stepping between her legs and meeting her eyes. They were just about at an even height this way. "I take it that –"

She didn't let him finish, leaning forward to kiss him instead – she thought that would be a much better answer than anything he was expecting her to say. And had he known what she was thinking, he would have agreed with her.

Nate deepened the kiss and she pulled him closer, and things might have gotten slightly out of hand, except…

"Proof!" Hardison yelled from behind them. "_Proof!_"

"Oh no," Nate sighed, leaning his forehead against hers.

"Sophie, Eliot, get in here!" Hardison yelled so loudly that Parker winced, and he was still halfway across the kitchen.

She glanced around Nate and nearly gasped when she saw Hardison filming them. "What are you _doing_?"

Sophie and Eliot came rushing into the room, coming to an abrupt stop once they saw the scene in front of them. Nate and Parker were still together on the counter, having clearly just been interrupted doing something that none of the other three had ever entertained as a possibility. Still, that wasn't what Eliot found disturbing – no that was reserved for the fact that Hardison was very definitely filming them.

"What the _hell _are you three into?" Eliot asked, with half a mind to leave this house and never come back again. It took a lot to scar him, but this…

"Get over here, Eliot," Hardison said without lowering his camera, thinking that if Nate (or more likely Parker) tried to hurt him, Eliot could intervene.

"Why? Do you want me to join in?" Eliot asked, incredulous.

Sophie thought for sure this had to be part of the plan, but she couldn't figure out how the scene playing out before them would convince the Stiles' that their home was haunted.

Nate turned to face them, though he didn't let go of Parker, thinking along the same lines as Hardison – she might go smash the camera over his head.

"I present to you," Hardison said, "proof that this house is haunted!"

"What? Where?" Nate asked.

"They're possessed!" Hardison told Eliot and Sophie, "Clearly you can see that ghosts have taken over their bodies and are now forcing them to – to –"

"Oh for God's sake," Sophie sat at the kitchen table. "That is lame, guys, I could have written a much better scene. In fact…" she grabbed some napkins and started jotting down her own script.

"You think I'm possessed?" Parker asked.

Hardison shook his head. "I don't think, I know. Now look, just let the real Parker come back. We don't want any trouble."

That certainly didn't get the reaction he'd expected. Parker simply leaned against Nate's shoulder and started laughing.

Eliot was still lost. "What is this? What's going on here?"

"They're possessed!" Hardison complained. How could no one believe what was right in front of them for all to see?

"That's the only explanation you came up with?" Eliot shook his head. "Man, we _really_ have to find you a girlfriend."

Parker got herself back under control. "Did it ever occur to you, Hardison, that there might be another reason for what you saw?"

"Like?" Hardison asked. He really had no idea what was more likely. "Maybe not ghosts, maybe aliens have taken you over? I saw _Invasion of the Body Snatchers_, I know how it works."

"Or…could it be that we like each other?" Nate suggested.

Hardison thought for a moment, before rejecting it. "No, that's not a plausible explanation."

"Alright, let's do this scene again," Sophie said, waving her new napkin scripts at them. "From the top, with Nate and Parker in the kitchen, but this time we make it better by adding – quick everyone, what makes any scene better?"

The others all stared at her, no idea what she was going on about.

"Violence!" Sophie exclaimed, grabbing a knife from the butcher block on the counter and handing it to Parker. "Trust me."

Nate took the napkin she held out to him, scanning it. "You want me to read this?"

"With passion," Sophie affirmed, handing Parker a napkin as well.

"No way," he shook his head.

"Come on, Nate, put in a little effort," Sophie whined. "I spent three minutes writing that."

When he still refused, she turned to Parker. "You begin then, and at the end of the scene, when you lunge toward him, try to make it look real."

"This _is_ real!" Parker said, holding up the knife. "Wouldn't that be dangerous?"

Sophie thought about that. "Well, maybe. Just be careful. Although if you happened to graze his arm or something, a little blood always lends credence to –"

"What?" Parker yelled, letting go of the knife which fell to the floor with a clatter. "Are you crazy? I'm not going to stab him!"

"I said _graze_," Sophie defended herself. "And I was kidding…mostly."

"To clarify," Eliot spoke up, looking at Parker, "this is coming from the woman who tortures Hardison on a regular basis? The woman who once stabbed a guy with a fork?"

"Oh yeah," Parker said, laughing at the memory. "We've had some good times, haven't we?" When they didn't laugh with her, she sobered. "Besides, I wasn't in love with that guy!"

"You…what?" Nate asked.

"Come on," Hardison whispered to Eliot, "now tell me they aren't possessed."

"Oh wow," Sophie said, taking a step back. "When you two put on a show, you really put on a show."

Parker knew she shouldn't have said that, but in her defense she honestly hadn't meant to. Luckily, Nate didn't seem as upset as she feared he might. "I'm…sorry," she told him.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and waited until she reluctantly met his eyes. "Because you didn't mean it?"

"Because you probably didn't want to hear it," she corrected. "I mean, certainly not now. Not right after – I mean we barely admitted we liked each other."

"Parker," he said, "I'd hoped that you realized when I kissed you before, I was telling you that I loved you. Why wouldn't I want to hear the same from you?"

"I…no, I did not realize that," she said, grinning when he leaned in to kiss her again, both of them completely forgetting they had an audience – until that audience spoke up.

"Why am I still here?" Eliot said, more to himself than anyone else.

"This is so over the top," Sophie chided, "have you two never seen a realistic love scene? I'll get footage from some of my plays to show you."

"End scene," Hardison said, sounding more freaked out by the second. "End scene!"

Nate turned back to them. "Don't you have things to do?"

As usual, they all ignored him. "We've got to _scare _the Stiles', not make them want to rent romantic comedies and rediscover their love for each other," Sophie complained.

Parker really couldn't tell if Sophie still thought everything she'd witnessed was part of their plan. "Sophie, this isn't a scene."

Sophie met her eyes for a moment, then looked over to Nate who nodded in agreement. "Oh. Ohhh, I get it," Sophie said, leaning toward Parker conspiratorially, "this is for the sake of the cameras, right? Make it seem like this whole scene was real – I get it. Don't worry, I'm a professional, I can play along."

Parker glanced helplessly at Nate, as Sophie stood and forced Hardison to focus his camera on her. "What we've witnessed here tonight is an unexplainable paranormal encounter, which has caused two members of the team to become...well you saw for yourself. But we will not submit to those who haunt this home, will we?"

"Amen!" Hardison declared. "Now, what's next? I imagine an exorcism to save Nate and Parker, right? Sophie, do you know how to perform those?"

"I'm going upstairs," Eliot announced. "Because I imagine that if there _are _ghosts in this house, they're more sane than all of you combined."

"We're still sharing a room, Eliot, right?" Hardison called after him, getting no answer. "Eliot?"

**XXXXXX**

Twenty minutes later, everyone was upstairs, whiling away the last hour or so of their night at the Stiles' home. Nate wanted it to look as authentic as possible, and insisted they stay until sunrise. Besides, they still had to pack up their things.

Parker was counting the minutes until she could leave this house. She was past worrying about ghosts – now all she wanted was the freedom to get out of this house so she could get some actual sleep. And she couldn't deny that now she had something else to look forward to.

"Where are you going when we leave here?" Nate asked her.

She rolled over to look at him. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, wrapping up an extension cord to put in one of their bags. "Home, I guess," she said carefully. "I'm really tired. I haven't slept in a few days."

He nodded. "I figured, but I think we should talk. Why don't you come back to my place? You could always sleep there."

She pretended to think about it. "Yes, I guess I could," she said slowly.

He rolled his eyes, but leaned over to kiss her anyways.

"Get a room!" Hardison snapped, looking over his shoulder at them.

"We have one, thanks," Nate told him. "Why are you in it, again?"

"I told you, Sophie and Eliot are using that Ouija board, and when I told them they had to either stop or deal with me leaving…they kept using it."

"Yeah, too scary, huh?" Parker asked.

"No, I just have better things to do," Hardison insisted. "And what are you doing lounging around in here? How much work have you done tonight? All you did was complain into the cameras about ghosts and then you made out with Nate. Never mind, come to think of it, you've done more work than any of us."

"Hey, that wasn't work," Parker said, smiling at Nate.

"I wish you and I could have switched places for tonight," Hardison complained.

Parker did a double take. "Is there something you want to tell Nate? Should I leave the room?"

"No!" Hardison said, flustered. "All I mean is that I did more than anyone else tonight…oh never mind," he gave up.

Parker watched as he spliced together different taped footage on his laptop. "How long is that going to take?"

"A day or two at the most." He set his laptop aside to look seriously at the two of them. "So…I'm supposed to believe this is real, right? That you two aren't possessed? Because I have to say, I'm still skeptical."

"That's a shock," Nate said, in a tone which implied the exact opposite.

"Hardison, what would it take to prove to you that we are in complete control of ourselves?" Parker asked.

His eyes veritably lit up at those words. "First, I'd need substantial monetary compensation. Secondly, a few weeks vacation, preferably somewhere tropical. Third, if either of you knows an attractive woman who'd like to accompany a handsome, intelligent man to an island getaway –"

"Forget it," Nate told him. "With those impossible terms I'd actually be fine with letting you think I'm possessed for the rest of my life."

Parker grinned. "The rest of your life?"

"I…no…that is – you know what I mean," he managed.

"Yeah," she said with approval, "I do."

"Oh for –" Hardison turned away when they kissed, yet again. "Unfortunately I think I do believe you by now." He hit some buttons on his laptop with what Parker thought was unnecessary violence.

"Hardison, why don't you go join the other two? It would save you from yet more mental suffering," she suggested.

"No way," Hardison said. "I don't care what you two do, I am _not _going back to join them. They were trying to tell the spirits that I wanted proof of their existence! No, I'm going to sit here and pretend that I'm alone."

Parker glanced at Nate who shrugged as if to say, 'He's Hardison, what can we do?' Which were her thoughts exactly. And that's why they spent the rest of the night 'helping' him edit video footage – which actually consisted mainly of him complaining about Eliot's shoddy camera work, while Nate and Parker agreed with whatever he said. (It was easier that way.)

**XXXXXX**

"I still can't believe it worked," Sophie told them, as she got herself a glass of water. They'd gathered at Nate's apartment/headquarters (though he'd been trying to convince them to find an official office elsewhere, they pretty much ignored him whenever he brought it up).

"It's what you call the magic of video editing," Hardison said, cracking his knuckles. "I take full credit."

"I think Claire's paranoia had something to do with it," Parker said. She didn't forget how the woman had looked when they'd presented their finalized _Ghost Finders _'episode' to her – the woman had turned as white as – well, a ghost.

"No," Hardison protested. "It was all me."

"Please," Eliot argued, "do you want me to bring up the footage you conveniently left out? You know, the various scenes of you running, hiding and/or shrieking with fear?"

Hardison ignored him, mumbling about how he thought he'd permanently deleted that footage. It had been several weeks since their creepy night at the Stiles' house – or what would soon be their former house. Once she'd seen their 'evidence,' Claire had decided the home was haunted, and convinced her husband to put the house back on the market.

"The good news is Steve and Amy Jones will be able to buy back their home, and for less than they sold it," Nate told them. "Let's not dwell on how it might not have worked, and be grateful that it did."

"Speaking of which," Sophie commented, "I've been unable to reach them. Their cell phones go right to voicemail. Have you heard from them, Nate?"

"No," he said, "I've been trying, too. I thought they might be on vacation. It's odd."

"Wait a minute," Hardison said, "you can't find them?" He started typing furiously into his laptop. "I'll track them down. This is odd…"

"What?" Sophie asked.

"There's no record of – wait a minute, Steve and Amy Jones?" Hardison grabbed the back of his neck to work out the tension. "You're sure those were the names they gave?"

"Yeah," Nate said, walking over so he could see the laptop screen. "They were scammed into selling their home to the Stiles'. I met them in person. I looked into the housing records, too, it all checked out."

"This is why you should always have _me _do research," Hardison said uneasily, turning his computer so everyone else could see the screen. "Because I don't know how to break this to you, but while there _is_ a record of Steve and Amy Jones owning that property, it was 80 years ago. They're both dead now."

"That's impossible," Nate said, grabbing the computer. But Hardison was right, his screen showed that the Jones' had died while still owning their home. It had stayed in their family until their granddaughter, now an elderly woman, had sold it to the Stiles'. "What the hell is this?"

"It's got to be another con," Sophie said. "Someone poses as the former owners of the home, because they want us to get it put on the market so that they can buy it. Right?"

"Yeah, maybe," Nate said slowly, as Hardison took his laptop back and resumed searching.

"I _knew _that house was haunted," Hardison insisted.

"We don't know that," Nate tried to argue.

"Then what other explanation is there?" Hardison asked. "We just convinced a couple to put their house back on the market because a couple who've been dead for decades, according to these records, told us they were conned. Do you have a better explanation?"

"Not yet," Nate said. "But I'm sure things will work themselves out. We'll get an answer that makes sense."

Only the answer they eventually found didn't clear things up the way Nate had hoped. Hardison tracked down Caroline Matthews, the granddaughter of Steve and Amy Jones who had sold her home to the Stiles'. It turned out she had been scammed into doing so, but hadn't realized it. When Hardison told her she could get her family's home back, she'd been thrilled. So it seemed their plan had worked in the end, albeit in a convoluted way. Nate had also asked for a picture of her grandparents, and although he admitted the couple in the picture looked pretty much exactly like the people he'd met with, he still insisted it was coincidence.

No matter what the answer was, one thing was certain: they'd never get real answers about the house, or the real identity of the couple that Nate had met.

Each one of them had their own conclusions.

Forever after, Hardison insisted it was proof that ghosts existed and that they'd actually been conned by them (a first, and hopefully, last occurrence).

Nate decided they'd been tricked by people looking to get revenge on the Stiles' for some reason which they'd never discover.

Sophie wasn't quite sure, but she tended to think along the lines of Nate, because assuming it had nothing to do with the spirit world was a more comforting conclusion.

Eliot didn't like to think about it at all, but if pressed, he said that it didn't matter what the answer was, because they'd successfully done what they were hired to do. The Stiles' put their home on the market, and a woman who'd had her home unjustly taken away got it back. And as for the people who'd asked Nate to make that happen, the mysterious 'Steve and Amy Jones', there had to be a rational explanation behind their appearance, and subsequent disappearance. He hoped.

Parker, as much as she tried to stop it, found herself leaning toward Hardison's explanation. Because what else made sense? She hated to even hint at those thoughts, though, because Hardison would never let it go if he thought someone was on his side.

And no matter what they'd experienced, Parker was grateful to the couple who'd approached Nate that night, wanting him to get revenge on the Stiles'. Because it had led them to each other.

Alright, maybe they would have found their way eventually, but who knew how long it would have taken?

"What are you thinking about?" Nate asked from behind her. He leaned over the back of the couch to wrap his arms around her shoulders. "Nothing too serious, I hope."

"Not really. Just ghosts. Specifically their existence, or lack thereof. And fate."

"That sounds serious," he said, resting his head on hers. "What did you conclude?"

"I think the jury's still out on both. You do realize," she continued, "that ghosts might have led us to each other."

"Really?" He asked, as he came to sit next to her. "That's kind of scary."

"Doesn't sound scary to me," she said, leaning against him.

"Hey!" Hardison snapped. "I'm in the room. Or am I invisible now?"

"You're free to leave any time, Hardison," Nate told him. "You know we live here, right?"

"Don't remind me," Hardison pretended to complain. He didn't smile until he was sure Nate and Parker were back to paying him no attention.

If it had led to his friends being that happy, maybe ghosts weren't as bad as he'd always thought.

Just don't expect him to ever admit such a thing.

**XXXXXX**

The end! To everyone who made it this far, I am truly honored you liked this enough to stick with it until the end.

Special thanks to everyone who reviewed, you don't know how much I appreciate it. (And to anyone wondering, my next focus is on finishing my other two stories.)


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